iM 


Frenoi^smternatiorial  C6p^ightea(iS^  fier 

Colonies,  and  the  United  States)  Edition  of 
the  Works  of  the  Best  Authors. 


No.  160  M 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS 


M Cl)ilbrcn’£(  ^lap  in  (!^ne  Sict 


BY 


MAJOR  PHILIP  TREVOR 


«P 


Copyright,  1909,  by  Major  Philip  Trevor 


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J/I 

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i 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS 


% C^iltiren’jS  ^lap  in  #ne  5Ilct 


BY 

MAJOR  PHILIP  TREVOR 


Copyright,  1909,  by  Major  Philip  Trevor 


New  York 
SAMUEL  FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

26  WEST  22D  STREET 


London 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  Ltd. 
26  Southampton  Street, 
STRAND 


CHARACTERS  AND  ORIGINAL  CAST. 

Jack 

Curly  (His  brother) 

Dot  I sisters 

Winifred 

The  Imp ... 

The  Looking-Glass. 

The  ‘‘Looking-Glass”  was  first  produced  at  the  Haymar- 
ket  Theatre  in  January,  1909.  Since  then  it  has  been  played 
at  the  St.  James  Theatre  in  February,  1909,  and  at  the  Castle 
Theatre,  Richmond  in  April,  1909.  On  each  of  the  two  latter 
occasions  it  was  played  by  the  original  cast  for  whom  it  was 
written. 


Master  C.  P.  Trevor. 
Master  A.  D.  Trevor. 
Miss  Phyllis  Trevor. 
Miss  Evelyn  Trevor. 
Miss  Violet  Trevor. 
Miss  Enid  Trevor. 
Miss  Dorothy  Trevor. 


2 


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. ^.HE  rooiri:-! 


Floor  covered  with  Dancing  Drugget 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


The  looJcing-glass  which  is  in  centre,  at  bach,  is  six 
feet  by  four,  made  like  folding  doors  to  open  in 
centre.  It  is  raised  one  foot  from  the  ground,  and  in 
front  of  it  there  should  be  a step  six  inches  high  and 
about  nine  inches  broad..  Above  the  glass  is  a ledge 
about  three  inches  or  so  in  width,  and  at  bach  of 
ledge  is  a white  board  four  feet  long  and  -fifteen 
inches  high. 

The  ivy  letters  which  the  Fairy  brings  shoidd  be 
one  foot  high,  and  these  lean  against  the  white  board 
when  standing  on  the  ledge. 

Scene  :-—In  London.  In  Corner  l.  at  bach  a Christ- 
mas tree,  pushed  aside — dilapidated;  a few 
candles  burning  dimly.  One  or  two  toys  on  the 
tree.  A toy  yacht  with  broken  bowsprit  at  foot; 
also  two  or  three  other  toys.  Furniture  shed 
bach  round  walls. 

Time: — Christmas  Eve.  About  11:30  p.m.  The 
lights  are  dotvn  when  the  curtain  rises. 

{After  the  Curtain  rises.  Dot  and  Curly  ENTER 
by  dooi'  R.  Curly  wears  pyjamas;  Dot  a night- 
dress. Dot  comes  on  stealthily  first  and  looks 
round.  Seeing  all  clear,  she  switches  on  lights, 
then  beckons  to  Curly  in  the  passage.  He 
ENTERS.  They  shut  door  quickly,  then  run  to 
Christmas  Tree,  and  look  about  anxiously.) 

Dot  (l.).  Oh,  Curly,  my  Noah’s  Ark’s  gone. 
{Half  crying) 


3 


4 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


Curly  (r.,  crawling  under  branches,  pulls  out 
h7^ok'en  yacht),  Dot^  my  beautiful  boaCs  all  broke! 
{Begins  to  cry) 

Dot.  Curly^  I^m  ^shamed  of  you.  Boys  shouldn’t 
cry. 

Curly.  Then  why  are  you  crying? 

Dot.  ’Cause  I’m  only  a little  girl,  I s’pose. 
Curly.  Don’t  cry  loud.  Dot,  or  someone  will  hear 
you.  Oh,  where  is  Jack,  and  why  won’t  he  come? 
Dot.  If  he  was  to  come,  he’d  call  you  a cry-baby. 

(Curly  immediately  dries  his  eyes  and  shuts  his 
mouth  firmly.  They  walk  down  stage,  Curly 
R.,  Dot  l.) 

Our  stepmother  said  she  didn’t  know  if  he’d  come  to- 
night, and  didn’t  care. 

Curly.  She  whipped  you  to-day  for  calling  her 
Stepmother,”  so  you’d  better  be  careful. 

Dot.  I don’t  care  if  she  does  whip  me.  I won’t 
call  her  Mother.  {Stamping)  I won’t,  I won’t,  I 
won’t ! So  there  I (Bursts  into  tears  and  throws  her^ 
self  on  the  floor) 

(Curly  looks  on  wonderingly,  and  seems  inclined 
to  cry  too.) 

{Suddenly  sits  up)  Oh,  Mother,  do  ask  God  to  let 
you  come  back  from  the  sky ! {She  sobs  again)  Oh, 
this  is  such  a dreadful  Christmas  ....  and  only 
last  Christmas  Mother  was  here  . . . 

(A  pause.  Curly  then  begins  to  cry  himself,) 

Curly.  Dot,  if  Jack  came  in  now,  he  wouldn’t 
call  me  a cry-baby,  would  he,  for  crying  ’cause 
Mother’s  dead? 

Dot.  'No,  Curly.  That’s  not  the  same  as  crying 
about  a boat. 

(He  dries  tears,) 

Curly.  And  yet  Mother  said,  when  she  went 
away,  that  we  weren’t  to  cry  for  her. 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS.  5 

Dot  (suddenly).  You’re  right.  She  said  we  were 
to  make  each  other  happy. 

Curly.  I shall  be  happy  when-  J ack  comes. 

Dot.  Let’s  try  to  do  something  Mother  would 
like. 

Curly.  Mother  wouldn’t  like  me  to  have  a boat 
with  a broken  bowsprit. 

Dot  (ivisely).  No.  I’m  sure  she  wouldn’t. 

Curly.  How  shall  we  know  what  Mother  likes? 

Dot  (thoughtfully).  Ah! 

Curly  (thoughtfully).  Ah! 

Dot  (suddenly  with  great  glee),  I know.  We’ll 
do  everything  our  stepmother  doesn’t  like;  ’cause 
Mother  always  liked  nice  things,  and  our  stepmother 
always  likes  nasty  things. 

Curly.  Shake  hands.  (Holds  out  hand) 

Dot.  Why  ? 

Curly.  Jack  always  shakes  hands  when  he  ’grees 
to  anything.  It  doesn’t  count  udless  you  shake 
hands,  you  know. 

(They  shahe  hands  gravely,  then  wander  up  to  the 
loohing-glass,  into  which  they  stand  gazing,) 

Dot.  I do  so  want  to  get  through  the  looking- 
glass,  Curly,  like  the  little  girl  in  the  book  I read 
you. 

Curly.  That  wasn’t  really  true,  was  it? 

^ Dot.  Well,  not  ’zactly.  But  it’s  grown-ups  who 
read  that  book  more  than  children.  Grown-ups  like 
it  awfully. 

Curly.  ’Cause  grown-ups  like  looking-glasses  so 
much. 

Dot.  But  not  all  grown-ups.  Mother  didn’t. 

Curly.  Our  stepmother  does. 

Dot  (fiendishly).  So  she  does. 

(Dot  seizes  boat  from  Curly,  and  smashes  looJcing- 
glass.) 


There ! 


6 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


Curly.  There ! YouTl  wake  her  up  now,  and 
won’t  she  whip  you  for  that.  • 

Dot.  I don’t  care  if  she  does  whip  me.  {Puis 
down  boat) 

Curly  {gravely)  But  Mother  wouldn’t  like  you 
to  be  whipped.  ^ 

{Enter  May  hurriedly,  by  door  r.) 

May.  Oh,  you  naughty  children — what  are  you 
here  for?  . . . and  oh!  what  have  you  done?  {Sees 
smashed  glass) 

May  r.  Curly  c.  Dot  l. 

Dot  {coolly),  I’ve  smashed  the  looking-glass 
with*  Curly’s  boat.  {Goes  to  looking-glass  and  gazes 
at  it) 

May  {aghast).  What  for? 

Curly.  ’Cause  she  thought  our  stepmother 
wouldn’t  like  it. 

May.  ’Cause  she  ....  thought  ....  what? 

Curly.  We’ve  ’greed  to  do  everything  Mother 
would  like;  we’ve  shaked  hands  on  it. 

May.  What  do  you  mean  ? 

Curly.  Dot  says  Mother  would  like  what  our 
stepmother  wouldn’t  like. 

May  {understanding).  Ah!  And  Mrs.  Durn- 
ford  wouldn’t  like  her  looking-glass  broken,  eh? 

Curly  {nodding  head).  ’Um. 

(May  turns  away  to  hide  a smile;  then  looks  round 
and  tries  to  look  severe.  All  this  time  Dot 
has  been  gazing  mournfully  at  the  glass) 

Dot.  There’s  nothing  the  other  side,  after  all. 
{Much  disappointed)  I wanted  that  too,  May. 

Curly.  I knew  the  book  about  the  little  girl  wot 
got  through  the  looking-glass  wasn’t  really  true. 

May.  Now,  off  to  bed  with  you,  you  naughty 
children.  I can’t  think  why  you’re  here. 

Dot.  We  came  to  get  our  toys.  You  know  we 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


7 


were  sent  to  bed  without  them.  Mother  always 
brought  them  up  for  us,  and  put  us  to  bed,  and 
kissed  us  good-night. 

(May  turns  away  to  stifle  her  feelings;  then  faces 
round  again  and  speaks  a little  unsteadily,) 

May.  Perhaps  we  won^t  talk  about  mother  just 
now.  Dot,  darling. 

(May  puts  right  arm  round  Curly^s  neck.  Dot 
is  L.) 

Curly.  Oh,  May,  can’t  I wait  till  Jack  comes? 
Why  didn’t  he  come  home  like  he  always  used  to 
when  the  holidays  began? 

May.  He’s  staying  with  friends. 

Curly.  Why  ? 

May.  Eton  broke  up  early  this  Christmas,  and 
. . . and  . . . there  wasn’t  room  for  him  here. 

Dot.  Why  had  Captain  Rowley  got  his  room  till 
this  morning  ? 

Curly.  He  promised  to  come  for  the  Christmas 
Tree. 

Dot.  I heard  our  stepmother  say  he’d  have  to 
sleep  on  the  sofa  if  he  did  come. 

May.  Hush,  children ! If  I thought  he’d  get 
here,  I’d  let  you  wait  up  for  him  ....  but  I’m 
afraid  .... 

Curly  {quickly).  Quiet! 

{A  pause.) 

May.  I don’t  hear  anything. 

Curly  {hounding  to  the  door  and  out  of  it).  It’s 
Jack ! 

Jack  {outside).  Well,  you  funny  little  beggar, 
what  are  you  up  for  at  this  time  of  night? 

Curly  {outside).  Why,  to  see  you,  of  course. 

(Jack  ENTERS  with  Curly  on  his  shoulder.  He 
wears  a hig  coat  flecked  with  snow.  May  and 
Dot  kiss  him  affectionately.) 


8 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


Dot  r.  Jack  c.  May  l. 

Jack.  I ought  to  have  been  here  eight  hours  ago. 
Line  blocked.  Snow  two  feet  deep  in  the  Midlands. 
{He  turns  and  sees  the  broken  looking-glass)  Hullo, 
had  a bit  of  an  accident? 

Dot  {slowly,  after  pause).  It  wasn’t  ’zactly  an 
accident. 

Jack  {to  Curly  on  his  shoulder).  Did  you  try  to 
get  through  to  the  other  side,  Curly? 

Curly.  No. 

Jack.  Who  did,  then?  {A  pause)  Who  did, 
then  ? 

Curly.  You  said  I was  never  to  sneak. 

Jack.  Eight.  I’m  sat  on.  {Walks  down  stage) 
Curly  {innocently) . You  said  I could  sit  on  you, 
hut  I’ll  get  off  if  I’m  too  heavy. 

Jack  {as  he  and  the  two  others  laugh).  I didn’t 
mean  that  kind  of  sitting  on.  But  I don’t  see  why 
we  shouldn’t  all  do  a little  sitting  upon  something. 
Jump  down.  Curly,  old  boy,  for  a second. 

(Curly  does  so.) 

I’ll  lug  a sofa  out. 

{He  pulls  out  sofa  from  R.  to  centre.  May  is  about 
to  get  a chair  for  herself.) 

Here,  hang  on  a moment,  May. 

{He  gets  chair  for  her,  and  puts  it  L.  of  sofa.  Wher- 
ever Jack  goes  Curly  follows,  hanging  on  to 
his  coat.  They  sit  down,  Jack  on  sofa.  May  in 
armchair.  Curly  and  Dot  make  a rush  for 
Jack’s  knee.  Jack  has  taken  off  his  big  coat.) 

May.  If  you  let  ’em  sit  up.  Jack,  they  ought  to 
have  something  more  on. 

Jack.  Just  as  you  like,  but  this  roof’s  a*wfully 
hot. 

May.  Is  it?  All  right.  . . . Now,  Dot,  come  and 
^it  on  my  knee.  J ack  can’t  take  both  of  you. 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


9 


Dot.  There’s  plenty  of  room  here.  May. 

May  {smilmg)-  All  right. 

Jack.  And  so,  old  Curly  boy,  you  didn’t  want  to 
see  what  there  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  looking* 
glass  ? 

) Dot.  I did. 

Curly  {gravely),  No,  I didn^t.  ...  I want 
’nother  kind  of  looking-glass. 

Jack.  What  kind? 

Curly.  One  what  makes  me  look  inside  myself. 

Jack.  Oho ! Who  has  been  telling  yon-  about 
Eoentgen  rays  ? 

Dot. 

Curly.  What  are  Roentgen  rays  ? 

Jack.  A kind  of  electric  light  which  doctors  can 
make.  They  point  the  thing  at  you,  and  then  they 
can  count  your  ribs  inside  your  body,  and  watch 
your  heart  beat,  and  do  all  sorts  of  funny  things. 

Curly  {shaking  his  head).  No,  I don’t  mean 
that. 

May  {quickly).  I know  what  he  means — the  little 
Self-fairy. 

Curly  and  Dot.  Yes,  yes ! 

Dot. 

{They  jump  off  his  knee  and  sit  on  sofa.) 

Jack.  The  little  Self-fairy  ? 

May.  Yes.  I gave  Curly  a Christmas  book  about 
it,  and  I’ve  been  reading  it  to  him. 

Jack.  What,  already  ? Haven’t  you  all  been  danc- 

ing? 

{After  a pause  the  others  reply  quietly.) 

But  there’s  been  a dance?  {Looking  round  cleared 
room) 

Dot.  Yes,  Jack,  for  the  grown-ups^  ...  We 
weren’t  allowed  to  go  to  it. 

Jack  {jumping  up  angrily).  What  an  infernal 
shame  I I’d  like  to  wring  that  woman’s  neck.  {Goes 
to  lack  of  settee) 


10  THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 

(Dot  and  Curly  clap  their  hands.  May  goes  to 
Jack  and  puts  hand  on  his  shoulder.) 

May.  You  shouldn’t.  Jack.  . . . Not  before  the 
little  ones. 

Jack.  Sorry,  May,  but  really  she  • . . . 

May.  Yes,  I know. 

Jack.  Why  aren’t  they  dancing  now? 

May.  Oh,  it  was  arranged  to  stop  at  eleven 
o’clock. 

Jack  {thoughtfully).  If  Mrs.  Durnford  ran  a 
grown-up  dance,  I can’t  think  why  she  had  it  stopped 
at  eleven. 

May.  Well,  to-morrow’s  Sunday,  and  she  said  she 
didn’t  think  it  right  to  dance  till  the  very  last  minute 
on  Saturday  night.  She  is  religious,  you  know.  Jack. 

Curly.  She’s  not  good. 

Dot.  Can  you  be  religious  without  being  good  ? 

Jack.  You  kids  can’t.  Not  yet.  You’ve  got  to 
wait  till  you’re  grown  up  before  you  can  manage  that. 

May.  Oh,  Jack! 

Jack  {recovering — going  haclc  to  settee  and  sitting 
down).  Well,  kiddies,  you  shall  have  a Christmas 
treat  now.  We’ll  ask  May  to  read  us  all  about  the 
little  Self-fairy. 

Dot.  Yes,  yes ! 

Curly.  Won’t  you  read  it.  Jack? 

Jack.  May  reads  much  better  than  I do,  Curly. 

Curly.  Truth  and  honour,  I d;on’t  think  she  does. 

Jack.  What  makes  you  think  that? 

Curly  {very  decidedly).  ’Cause  you  do  every- 
thing best.  No  one  does  anything  betterer  than  you. 

(Jack  and  May  exchange  glances,  hut  they  do  not 
laugh  at  him.) 

May.  Anyhow,  I’ll  go  and  get  the  book. 

(EXIT  by  door  R.) 

Curly.  Jack,  would  you  mend  my  boat’s  bow- 
sprit? Someone’s  pushed  it  under  the  Christmas 
Tree,  and  brokened  it. 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


11 


Jack.  Well,  let’s  have  it! 

(Curly  fetches  it.) 

But  why  didn’t  you  take  it  up  to  bed  with  you? 

Dot.  We  wasn’t  allowed  to.  We  was  sent  to  bed 
before  the  Christmas  Tree  was  over.  Our  stepmother 
said  the  dance  was  to  begin,  and  we  might  fetch  our 
toys  in  the  morning. 

Curly.  You  shouldn’t  sneak.  Dot.  {Gives  Jack 
the  boat) 

{Enter  May  with  booh.  She  gives  it  to  Jack.) 

Jack.  I say,  look  here!  I can’t  read  and  mend 
your  boat  at  the  same  time. 

Dot  {to  Curly).  If  May  read  while  Jack  mended 
the  boat,  you’d  get  two  treats.  Curly. 

Curly  {simply).  Will  you.  May? 

May  {with  a slight  smile).  All  right.  If  you 
think  I read  well  enough. 

Jack.  Don’t  rot  him.  May.  Drive  ahead.  {Gives 
booh  back  to  May) 

(Curly  lies  on  sofa  with  his  head  on  Jack’s  leg, 
and  his  face  to  audience.  Dot  lies  at  the  other 
end.) 

Curly.  Begin  at : There  was  once  a poor  little 
ragged  girl  wot  hadn’t  any  toys  at  Christmas.” 

{He  lies  down  and  closes  his  eyes.  So  does  Dot.  A 

pause  while  Jack  and  May  exchange  signals.) 

May  {begins  to  read).  The  Story  of  the  little 
Self-Fairy,  and  of  the  strange  things  and  the  stranger 
folk  whom  she  saw.  There  was  once  a poor  little 
ragged  girl  who  hadn’t  any  toys  at  Christmas.  There 
was  not,  I fear,  much  about  her  that  was  nice;  and 
her  mother  was  not  ^ quite  nice  ’ either.  Besides,  her 
mother  had  no  nice  friend  to  put  her  right  about  the 
children  when  she  went  wrong.  You  will  see,  then, 
that  this  poor  little  ragged  girl  was  very  unlucky 


12 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


indeed ; for  most  liiothers  have  that  kind  of 
friend ’’ 

J ACK.  Especially  when  their  husbands  have  sisters 
who  aren’t  married. 

May  {innocently),  No!  that’s  not  in  the  book. 

Jack.  Isn’t  it?  Well,  it  ought  to  be  then. 

May.  But,  Jack,  the  sound  of  your  voice  will  wake 
them  up  if  you  interrupt. 

Jack.  Not  it.  Doubt  if  an  earthquake  or  a suf- 
fragette would  do  it.  {Looks  at  Curly)  No;  it’s 
not  much  good  reading.  This  one’s  half  asleep  al- 
ready. {To  Curly)  Hadn’t  May  better  sing  you 
to  sleep  ? 

Curly  {sitting  up).  You  sing  me  to  sleep.  {He 
then  lies  down  again  with  hack  to  audience) 

Dot  {also  sitting  up).  And  May  sing  me  to  sleep. 

Jack.  Jolly  cat’s  chorus  we  shall  make  of  it. 

Curly.  I want  to  whisper  first.  . . . Then  sing. 

(Jack  puts  his  ear  down  and  Curly  whispers.) 

Jack.  All  right,  old  boy.  Sweet  and  Low  ” will 
do  for  them.  Give  us  the  note,  May. 

(May  does  so,  going  to  piano  for  purpose,  and  therv 
returning  to  chair.  Jack  and  sing  Sweet 
and  low/’  Jack  mending  boat.) 

{After  the  duet)  My  one’s  like  a log. 

May.  So’s  this  mite;  will  you  carry  them  up- 
stairs to  bed.  Jack? 

Jack.  Oh,  let  them  stay  on  the  sofa  over  there, 
{points  to  sofa,  l.)  till  we  go  up.  It  can’t  hurt 
them. 

May.  Very  well ; but  we  must  put  something  more 
over  them. 

Jack.  Eight-0! 

{Takes  off  coat,  ivraps  Curly  in  it  and  carries  him 
to  sofa  L.  Then  takes  Dot  and  lays  her  beside 
Curly.  May  puts  logs  on  fire,  and  then  goes  to 
sofa  Jj.,  and  helps  to  tuck  up  children.  Jack 
covers  them  with  his  snowy  coat.) 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


13 


May.  Oh,  Jack,  it’s  all  over  snow. 

Jack.  Oh,  that  doesn’t  matter.  They  say  snow 
sends  ’em  to  sleep  on  the  top  of  Mont  Blanc.  Poor 
little  beggar,  what  do  you  think  he  whispered  to  me 
before  he  went  to  sleep? 

May.  What? 

Jack  {imitating  Curly).  ^^If  ’fore  I wake  up, 
you  meet  a beggar  child  wot  hasn’t  any  Christmas 
toys,  give  it  my  boat.” 

May.  Poor  little  mites ! I’m  afraid  they’ll  soon 
lose  all  their  pretty  ways. 

Jack.  What?  Mrs.  Durnford  is  such  a brute,  you 
mean? 

{They  sit  together  on  sofa.  May  nods,  A pause, 
then  she  breaks  out,) 

May.  Oh,  Jack,  it  is  hard  on  them!  It  was  cruel 
enough  to  lose  Mother,  and  then  to  have  her  place 
taken  by  a 

(Jack,  clenching  his  fists,  jumps  up  and  walks 
angrily  about,) 

Jack.  I’m  so  beastly  powerless  ....  that’s  the 
worst  of  it.  I shan’t  be  twenty-one  for  nearly  four 
years ; but  you  shall  all  come  and  live  with  me  then. 
I’ll  watch  that  ....  PoorMother ! I wonder  if 
she  was  thinking  of  what  might  happen  when  she  left 
me  that  money? 

May.  Dear  old  Jack,  would  you  really  have  us? 
Mrs.  Durnford  would  be  only  too  glad  to  be  rid  of 
us  ...  . that’s  one  comfort. 

Jack.  And  Dad? 

May  {slowly).  Dad  will  do  what  she  wants.  At 
least,  I’m  afraid  so. 

Jack  {thoughtfully).  I don’t  know.  Perhaps  not. 
{Walks  to  hack  of  sofa,  returns,  patting  May  on 
.shoulder)  Poor  old  May!  all  the  hard  part  comes 
on  you.  But  we  must  cheer  up.  {Sits  down  again) 

May  {brightening).  All  right.  Jack.  And  now 


14 


THE  LOOKING-GLA^S. 


let’s  hear  something  about  you.  What  sort  of  a half 
did  you  have  at  Eton  ? I was  so  delighted  when  you 
got  your  field. 

Jack.  Oh,  never  mind  me.  Tell  me  more  home 
news.  What’s  the  estimable  Winifred  like?  By  the 
way,  what  relation’s  she  to  me?  Stepsister,  I take 
it? 

May.  She’s  not  any  relation  at  all  to  you,  of 
course.  She’s  Mrs.  Durnford’s  daughter  by  her  first, 
marriage. 

Jack.  Yes,  I know  that. 

May.  Well,  then;  she’s  not  any  relation  at  all. 

Jack  {resignedly),  I suppose  she’s  got  to  count 
as  a sister,  hasn’t  she  ? 

May  {pensively).  Oh  dear!  A sister  must  be  a 
trial  to  a boy ! 

Jack.  Don’t  be  an  ass.  May.  What  sort  of  a kid 
is  she? 

May.  She’s  not  a kid.  That’s  just  exactly  what 
she  is  not. 

Jack.  But  she’s  only  fifteen. 

May.  She’s  grown  up  for  all  that. 

Jack.  How  did  she  manage  it? 

May.  Travel,  I believe.  She  and  her  mother  have 
been  going  round  the  world  for  the  last  four  years. 

Jack..  What’s  she  like? 

May.  Winifred? 

Jack.  Of  course. 

May.  Oh,  she’s  pretty. 

Jack  {impatiently),  I don’t  mean  that)| 

May.  What  do  you  mean  ? ' 

Jack.  Why,  I want  to  know  all  about  her. 

May.  Very  well  then.  I’ll  begin;  but  it’ll  take 
me  at  least  half  an  hour  to — ^ — 

Jack.  Oh,  hang  it ! Can’t  you  give  it  to  me  in 
two  or  three  sentences  ? 

May  {hesitating),  No  ...  . Not  unless  . . . . 
unless  .... 

Jack.  Unless  what  ? 


ME  LOOKING-GLASS. 


15 


May.  Unless  I repeat  what  Uncle  Tom  said. 

Jack.  Yes.  Tell  us  that.  He’s  a bit  funny  at 
times. 

May.  But  rather — rather — unkind. 

Jack.  Eot.  Out  with  it. 

May.  He  calls  her  the  Kitchen  Maid. 

Jack  {meditatively),  The  Kitchen  Maid/^ 

May.  Because  she’s  so  useful  to  Cook’s. 

(Jack  is  puzzled.) 

Cook’s  Tours,  you  know. 

(Jack  sees  joke,  and  expresses  disgust.) 

He  will  have  it  that  she’s  a typical  Cook’s  Tourist. 
Says  she’s  picked  up  style  nowhere,  brass  on  board 
ship,  side  in  America,  cheek  in  the  Colonies,  and 
accent  everywhere. 

Jack.  Uncle  Tom  seems  to  know  all  about  her. 

May.  He  thinks  he  does,  J ack ; but  really  he  only 
knows  what  she’s  collected. 

Jack.  Oh,  she’s  got  something  of  her  own  then? 

May.  Yes,  a kind  heart. 

Jack.  And  a bit  ashamed  of  it,  perhaps. 

May.  I don’t  think  she  knows  she’s  got  it. 

Jack.  Um ! Quaint  person.  Where  was  she 
raised  before  she  started  globe-trotting  ? 

May.  London — er — some  part  of  London. 

Jack.  Winifred  of  London — Winifred  of  some 
part  of  London ! 

May  {suddenly).  Oh,  Jack,  I wish  I hadn’t  re- 
peated what  Uncle  Tom  said.  She’s  really  a good 
sort,  but  she’s  never  had  anyone  to 

Jack  {with  feeling).  Dear  old  May,  you’re  incor- 
rigible. She’s  got  a rare  mother  of  her  own ; yet  you 
must  mother  her  too.  {Gives  May  friendly  pat  on 
head  and  goes  up  L.  to  sleeping  children) 

(ENTER  Winifred  hy  door  r.  She  has  an  affected 
manner  and  speaks  mincingly,  except  when  she 
is  angry  and  excited.  Her  accent  then  becomes 
iroad  and  coarse.) 


16 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


WiNi.  (sits  on  settee  r.  of  May).  I say.  May,  you 
were  soft  to  go  up-stairs  with  the  kids.  Mother  tried 
to  make  me  go  too,  but  I wasn’t  going  to  be  put  upon. 

I meant  dancing,  and  I spoke  my  mind.  I talked  to 
her  straight. 

(She  turns  and  sees  Jack,  who  has  been  looking  at 
her  curiously,) 

Oh,  is  this  your  brother  Jack?  (Rises  and  goes  l.  to 
him) 

Jack  (l.,  coming  forward).  How  do  you  do? 
You’re  Winifred? 

WiNi.  (c.).  That’s  me.  (Shaking  hands)  You 
ought  to  have  got  back  in  time  for  the  dance. 

(May  sits  on  settee  and  looks  at  fairy  book.) 

Jack  (ivith  intention),  I tried  to  get  back  in  time 
for  the  Christmas  Tree. 

WiNi.  Oh,  that  was  only  for  the  kids. 

Jack.  And  it  was  cut  short  to  let  the  grown-ups 
dance,  I hear. 

WiNi.  It  was  a pity  to  have  the  Christmas  Tree^, 
thing  at  all,  because  it  had  been  settled  to  stop* 
dancing  at  eleven.  We  lost  a lot  of  time,  as  it  was. 

I suppose  you  go  to  lots  of  dances? 

Jack.  1 go  to  a few  in  the  Christmas  holidays. 
WiNi.  Christmas  holidays!  I’m  talking  of  the 
season. 

Jack.  I’m  a schoolboy. 

WiNi.  My  word,  you  English  are  funny ! I’ve 
been  about,  you  know ; and  of  course  getting  back  to 
England’s  a bit  tame.  Now,  you’re  seventeen  . . . 
and  you  look  more  . . . yet  you  let  yourself  be  or- 
dered about.  I don’t. 

Jack  (looking  rather  severe).  Ah! 

WiNL.  Are  you  offended?  You  mustn’t  mind  me 
— I’ve  been  about.  I always  speak  my  mind — dont 
you? 

Jack.  I used  to. 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


17 


WiNi.  Used  to? 

Jack.  Yes;  I hope  theyVe  licked  that  trick  out 
of  me  at  Eton,  by  this  time. 

WiNi.  {aghast).  Licked?  . . . For  speaking  the 
truth  ? My  word  ! 

Jack.  No.  Licked  for  not  learning  to  hold  one’s 
tongue. 

WiNi.  Oh,  I say ! That’s  not  too  bad.  And  that’s 
Eton  ! Why  don’t  you  run  away  ? 

Jack  {mystified).  Eun  away? 

May  {rising  from  settee  and  going  to  Winnie). 
You  don’t  understand,  Winnie.  An  Eton  boy  is 
proud  of  being  an  Eton  boy.  He  doesn’t  want  to 
rebel.  He  doesn’t  want  to  pretend  he’s  grown  up. 

WiNi.  Well,  as  I say,  you  English  are  funny. 
They’re  something  more  than  boys  abroad  at  seven- 
teen, and  in  America  and  the  Colonies,  you  know, 
one  man’s  as  good  as  another.  {Snaps  her  fingers) 

Jack.  And  gne  child? 

WiNi.  {realizing  his  intention,  after  a pause). 
Look  here  now  ...  if  you  mean  that  I’m  a child, 
all  you  people  in  this  house  had  better  get  that  idea 
out  of  your  heads.  Do  you  think  I’m  going  to  live 
in  the  nursery  ? Do  any  of  you  want  me  to  ? 

Jack.  I shouldn’t  fancy  Dot  and  Curly  did. 

WiNi.  {half  in  tears) . Does  Eton  teach  you  to  talk 
like  that?  {Goes  r.) 

May.  (c.).  Oh,  Jack!  I’ve  never  heard  you 
speak  like  that  to  a girl  before.  {Goes  to  Winifred 
and  consoles  her) 

Jack  (l.).  Well,  you  know,  Winifred,  I took  you 
at  your  word.  I spoke  my  mind.  {Sits  on  settee) 

WiNi.  {softening) . That  isn’t  the  kind  of  speak- 
ing the  mind  I mean,  is  it.  May? 

May  {kissing  her).  No,  dear.  People  who  do 
speak  their  minds,  as  you  call  it,  never  do  like  other 
people  speaking  theirs. 

WiNi.  {atokwardly) . That’s  not  quite  what  I 
mean  either.  But  there,  it  doesn’t  signify. 


18 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


May  {going  to  Jack).  Eeally,  Jack,  you 
shouldn’t. 

Jack.  But,  she’s  such  a — a — a — 

May.  Is  that  a reason  why  you  should  be  one  too  ? 

Jack  (c.,  gets  up  and  goes  to  Winifred).  I’m 
sorry,  I’m  a bit  off  colour  to-night,  and  I got  riled. 
Will  you  shake  hands? 

WiNi.  (offering  hand  quickly).  Put  it  there. 
(She  retains  his  hand)  I hope  we  shall  see  a lot  of 
each  other. 

(r.,  turns  and  looks  at  May,  who  is  busy  covering  up 
the  sleeping  children  more  carefully,) 

Perhaps  when  May’s  pottering  about  with  the  kids, 
you  and  I could  see  things  together. 

Jack  (simply).  Oh  yes,  you  must  come  along 
with  us,  of  course,  we  want  to  see  lots  of  shows  these 
hols. 

WiNi.  (archly).  But  I thought — perhaps — you 
might  like  to  take — me 

Jack  (quite  simply).  Of  course  we  shall.  I just 
said  so.  We’ll  all  go  together. 

WiNi.  (still  archly).  But  don’t  you  think  that 
sometimes  just  two  people  can  enjoy  going  about  to- 
gether, eh? 

Jack  (decisively.)  Oh,  in  a family  show,  the 
more  the  merrier.  (EXIT  May  by  door  r.) 

WiNi.  (tenderly).  Jack,  you’re  not  quite  a boy, 
and — as  I tell  you — I’m  not  a child 

Jack.  I don’t  quite 

WiNi.  Jack,  do  you  think  I’m  pretty? 

Jack  (prosUically),  Bather.  Of  course  you’re 
pretty. 

WiNi.  (coyly).  Two  or  three  men  in  Australia, 
and  America,  and  India  thought  so. 

Jack  (bluntly).  Then  who  said  you  weren’t? 

WiNi.  (disappointed,  but  recovering  herself).  No, 
iPs  not  that. — But — J ack,  can  I trust  you  ? 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS.  19 

Jack  (insufferably) . I should  hope  you  could  al- 
ways trust  an  Eton  boy ! 

WiNi.  (in  a pet).  I’m  not  speaking  to  you  as  an 
Eton  boy,  or  as  any  kind  of  boy — you  know  that  per- 
fectly well.  I say:  as  I can  trust  you,  ITl  tell  you 
something.  (Simpering) 

(Sits  on  settee  and  beackons  to  Jack  to  sit  beside 
her.  He  does  so.) 

There  was  a young  man  in  Australia — he  was  a Jack- 
eroo — he  made  love  to  me 

Jack.  What  infernal  cheek!  Those  niggers  want 
lynching.  They  do  lynch  ’em  in  America,  don’t  they  ? 

WiNi.  Don’t  be  silly.  A Jackeroo  isn’t  a nigger. 

Jack.  Isn’t  he?  V^at  is  he,  then? 

WiNi.  He’s  what  you  would  call  a young  gentle- 
man-farmer. Does  his  work  as  station  hand,  or 
boundary  rider,  just  like  an  ordinary 'labourer,  only 
in  his  spare  time,  he’s  a gentleman-farmer,  with— 
with 

Jack.  With  deuced  little  of  the  gentleman  about 
him,  I should  say. 

WiNi.  What  do  you  mean? 

J ACK.  Talking  a lot  of  love-making  rot  to  a kid ! 
I’d  like  to  catch  a man  trying  to  play  that  game  with 
May.  I’d  wring  that  fine  gentleman’s  neck ! — Never 
mind,  Winifred;  England’s  not  Australia,  and  you’ll 
be  protected  from  that  sort  of  thing  here. 

Vf  1^1. (huffed).  Oh,  no  doubt  England’s  a very 
much  better  country  than  Australia ! A Jackeroo  is 
a nigger  in  superior  England.  I only  wonder  you 
didn’t  think  Jackeroo  was  a kangaroo ! 

Jack.  Well,  they  both  appear  to  bound.  (Gets 
up)  That’s  rather  good  for  me.  (Sits  again)  But 
are  you  angry  with  me,  Winifred?  Why? 

WiNi.  (coolly).  Oh  no — no. 

Jack.  I want  to  be  your  pal — I do  really.  I 
loathe  love-making  rot,  and  all  that  trash — and  so 
does  May,  I want  to  treat  you  just  as  if  you  were 


/ 


20 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


my  sister  ....  after  all  you  are  a kind  of  sister. 
And  I promise  you  that  if  I can  help  it,  no  one  shall 
insult  you  like  that  Jackeroo-fellow.  And  I’m  pretty 
quick  at  seeing  a thing. 

WiNi.  {astounded).  Pretty  quick  at  seeing  a 
thing ! 

Jack  {with  his  usual  sublime  confidence). 
Rather ! ! 

WiNi.  Oh,  you  are  ....  you  are! 

(Jack  goes  up  stage  and  Winifred  folloivs  and 
stands  by  him.) 

(ENTER  May  with  blanhet  and  pillows  which  she  is 
about  to  arrange  for  the  children.) 

{The  Fairy  comes  through  Loolcing-glass,  which 
opens  outwards  and  then  shuts  again.  Fairy 
then  stands  about  six  feet  from  the  bottom  of 
the  sofa.  May  sees  her  and  stands  gazing. 
Curly  waTces  and  sees  her  also;  sits  up  and 
stretches  out  his  arms.) 

Curly.  Oh,  Fairy,  where’s  the  poor  little  ragged 
girl  wot  hasn’t  got  any  Christmas  toys? 

Jack  (r.).  Hallo,  the  little  beggar’s  talking  in 
his  sleep. 

Curly  {rising  and  going  to  Jack,  without  taking 
his  eyes  off  the  Fairy).  Oh,  Jack,  look  at  the  beauti- 
ful Fairy ! 

Jack.  By  George,  walking  in  his  sleep  too ! Here 
I say.  May,  lead  him  gently  back  to  the  sofa,  will 
you?  I’m  no  good  at  doing  things  gently  . . . . 
May ! — May  ! — Good  gracious,  what  are  you  staring 
at  ? 

May  (l.,  quietly).  He’s  not  asleep.  He’s  wide 
awake. 

Jack.  What  are  you  staring  at? 

May.  The  Fairy. 

Jack  {to  Winifred).  They’Ve  gone  off  their 
heads. 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS.  21 

WiNi.  (r.  of  Jack,  with  contempt).  And  this  is 
England ! 

Jack  {to  May).  Don’t  fool.  It’s  awfully  bad  for 
the  kid. 

I May.  You  know  I never  fool.  Jack.  Look  your- 
eelf.  There ! 

Jack.  I can’t  see  anything. 

WiNi.  Nor  anyone  else  either.  Is  this  an  English 
Christmas  game  ? 

Curly  {excitedly,  running  to  Jack).  Oh  Jack, 
do  go  and  fetch  the  little  ragged  girl  wot  hasn’t  got 
any  Christmas  toys,  and  give  her  my  boat. 

Jack.  The  little  ragged  girl  ? 

Curly.  Yes,  you  know  the  one.  The  one  in  the 
brown  dress  with  holes,  wot  is  quite  clean,  and  hasn’t 
got  any  hat  or  shoes  or  stockings. 

Jack.  What  do  you  mean? 

May.  Wake,  Dot,  and  see  the  pretty  Fairy. 

Dot  ( waking) . Where  ? 

May.  There. 

Dot  {straining  her  eyes).  Where?  Where? 

May.  There,  there ! 

Dot.  There  isn’t  a Fairy.  It  isn’t  fair  to  play 
April  fool  at  Christmas. 

WiNi.  {in  mockery).  I see  a red  dragon  with 
green  eyes! ! {To  Jack)  How  old  have  you  got  to 
be  in  England  before  you  shut  up  playing  this  kind 
of  game?  Was  the  dance  stopped  early  for  this? 

Jack  {perplexed,  going  to  May  l.).  I say,  May, 
I don’t  understand.  Are  you  sure  you  are  not  ill? 

May.  No. 

Jack.  Nor  dreaming? 

May.  No. 

(Jack  shrugs  his  shoulders  and  goes  r.) 

Curly.  Oh,  Jack,  never  mind  her.  Do  go  and 
fetch  the  little  ragged  girl. 

May.  Yes,  Jack,  please  do. 


22 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


Jack.  Great  Scott,  what  on  earth — and  where  on 
earth 

Curly.  Why,  she’s  in  the  snow,  of  course.  You 
know  she  is. 

J ACK.  There  aren’t  likely  to  be  little  ragged 
girls  in  Grosvenor  Place  at  this  time  of  night. 

May.  Go  out  the  back  way,  and  you’ll  find  plenty. 

Jack.  That’s  true  enough,  God  knows.  Well, 
whether  I’m  off  my  chump  or  not,  I’m  going.  Curly, 
give  me  my  coat. 

(Curly  gives  him  small  coat.) 

WiNi.  (to  Jack  at  door).  Well,  that’s  not  too 
bad  ! You’re  a boy — an  English  boy — ordered  about 
by  a girl  and  a kid  ! I should  like  to  see  a chap  who’d 
been  about  do  what  a girl  and  a kid  told  him ! But 
go  along.  ...  Be  a good  little  boy  and  do  as  you’re 
told. 

(EXIT  Jack.) 

Now  you  two  go  on  with  your  game,  370U  babies.  I’m 
sorry  I came  down  now.  I heard  a smash  and  I 
thought  there  was  perhaps  a row  on,  and  I love  a 
row.  (Poses  at  mirror) 

Dot.  May,  can  you  and  Curly  really  see  the 
Fairy? 

May.  Yes,  Dot. 

Curly.  Truth  and  honour!  I’ll  shake  hands  if 
you  like. 

Dot.  Oh  dear,  why  can’t  I see  it  ? Oh,  May,  rub 
my  eyes  for  me.  Perhaps  I’m  only  half  awake. 

(May  does  so,) 

Xo,  it’s  no  better.  Winny,  can  you  see  it? 

WiNL  Xo;  but  I don’t  lie  and  say  I can.  (Goes 
to  sofa  c.,  and  sits  on  it) 

Dot.  Xo;  no  one  does. 

WiNi.  Yes,  May  does. 

May.  Do  you  say  that  I lie?  (Trying  in  vain  to 
suppress  her  anger) 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS.  23 

WiNi.  {simply  and  sensibly  nodding),  Eather: 
you  know  you  do. 

May  {erupting  and  running  to  Winnie).  You 
horrid  little  globe-trotter ! ! ! You’ve  got  to  learn 
that  English  girls  don’t  .... 

(Fairy  goes  to  looking-glass  followed  by  Curly.) 

Oh — oh  dear,  the  Fairy’s  gone ! 

Curly  {on  r.  of  Fairy).  N*o,  she’s  not.  She’s 
just  by  me.  Don’t  you  see  her? 

May.  Ko!  No! 

WiNi.  {on  settee).  So  you  were  lying  after  all? 
May  {distressed) . Oh  dear,  I thought  I saw  her. 
I meant  to  speak  the  truth. 

Dot.  Oh  May,  weren’t  you  speaking  true? 

May  {perplexed),  I meant  to  speak  true.  Dot 
dear  ....  and  ....  Oh,  oh ! {Sobs  on  chair) 

(Dot  goes  to  her  and  comforts  her,  while  Curly  still 
gazes  ecstatically  at  the  Fairy.  Jack  ENTEES 
with  the  Imp,  clean,  ragged,  snow-flecked,  bare- 
armed, bare-legged,  hatless.  Curly  runs  and 
greets  her  as  an  old  friend.  Imp  has  Jack’s  coat 
round  her  shoulders,  which  Jack  removes  when 
she  gets  to  l.  c.) 

Curly.  Come  along.  Here’s  the  boat.  Jack’s 
mended  the  bowsprit,  haven’t  you,  Jack?  Jack,  Jack, 
what  are  you  staring  at? 

Jack.  I can  see  the  Fairy. 

Curly  {simply).  Well,  of  course  you  can. 

(Curly  and  Imp  sit  together  on  floor  l.  o.)' 
WiNi.  Oh,  you  are  starting  the  lie-game,  are  you  ? 
May  {starting  up).  Oh,  Jack,  can  you  really  see 
•it? 

Jack.  Yes. 

May.  Oh,  help  me  to  see  it. 

Jack.  Help  you?  You  said  you  could  see  her. 
{Goes  to  fireplace  r.) 

May.  Yes,  I thought  I could;  but  I can’t  now. 


24: 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


WiNi.  And  yet  she  called  me  a horrid  little  globe- 
trotter for  saying  she  Avas  lying ! 

May  {humbly).  Winny,  please  forgive  me.  I was 
a little  beast  just  now.  I’m  very  sorry.  . . . 
(Quichly)  Why,  I can  see  the  Fairy  after  all. 

WiNi.  (resentfully).  Oh,  you’re  at  it  again,  are 
you?  Well,  play  away ! 

May  (to  Imp,  who  has  been  sitting  on  the  floor 
by  Curly,  playing  with  the  boat).  What’s  your 
name,  little  girl? 

Curly.  She’s  called  the  Imp. 

Imp.  ’Ow  Bli’me!  ’Ow  did  you  know? 

Curly.  You  told  me,  didn’t  you? 

Imp.  I told  yer? 

Curly.  Yes,  when  you  and  me  was  with  the  Fairy 
before. 

Imp.  ’Strewth,  what  Fairy? 

Curly  (pointing).  That  fairy  there! 

(The  Imp  looTcs  in  vain.) 

Jack  AND  May.  There!  There! 

Imp.  I can’t  see  no  fairy.  Are  you  plying  a 
gime?  Oav,  I sy,  a real  Christmas  Tree! 

(Goes  to  it,  piclcs  up  some  sweets  lying  about  on  the 
floor,  greedily  devours  some,  and  pouches  others 
surreptitiously. ) 

May.  Would  you  like  some  more  chocolates  be- 
sides what  you’ve  put  in  your  frock? 

Imp.  I ain’t  put  none  in  my  frock. 

May  (l.  at  back).  But,  Imp,  I saw  you! 

Imp  (c.  at  baak).  Ow,  you  liar!  I swear  I ain’t! 
May.  Oh,  Imp!  (She  goes  to  her  with  raised 
hand) 

Imp  (misinterprets  the  gesture  and  cowers).  Don’t 
’it  me ! Muvver’s  been  ’ittin’  me  nearly  all  dy ! — I 
was  ’ungry ! 

May  (embracing  her).  Hit  you?  Poor  little 

Imp! 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


25 

Dot  {running  to  May  and  tvhispering) , May  I? 
Those  wot  you  put  under  my  pillow  for  me  ? 

(May  nods,  and  Dot  runs  out  of  the  room.) 

WiNi.  (to  Jack).  You  donT  see  this  sort  of  thing 
in  the  Colonies. 

Jack  (hoarsely).  Thank  God!  And  this  is  only 
one  out  of  half  a million  wretched  mites  in  London ! 

WiNi.  That’s  right.  She’s  not  too  happy,  poor 
little  thing. 

Dot  (entering  with  oranges,  luns,  etc.).  Here 
you  are. 

(1mi^  snatches  them  in  a wild,  cunning,  frightened 
manner,  glancing  round  in  terror  of  interference.) 

May  (understanding).  No,  dear.  Dot  means  them 
all  for  you. 

(Imp  eats  greedily.) 

Curly.  Haven’t  you  had  a Christmas  dinner? 

(Imp  shakes  her  head.) 

Dot.  Nor  a Christmas  tea  ? 

(Imp  shakes  her  head.) 

Oh  May,  she’s  got  nothing  to  drink.  I know  where 
the  milk’s  kept.  (Begins  to  go,  then  stops)  Oh,  oh, 
oh!  I can  see  the  fairy!  I must  stop  and  look  at 
it.  Won’t  someone  else  go  and  get  the  milk  ? (Looks 
round  enquiringly) 

May.  Oh,  Dot ! 

Dot.  Well,  you  see,  she’s  not  quite  ready  for  it, 
and — oh  dear,  the  fairy  seems  to  be  fading.  (Hesi- 
tates, closes  her  eyes,  rushes  to  Imp  and  kisses  her) 
I’m  so  sorry.  I’ll  go  and  get  the  milk  at  once.  I’ll 
shut  my  eyes  tight,  or  else  I shall  want  to  stop  here 
and  look  at  the  Fairy.  Lead  me  to  the  door.  May. 
(Stands  still  c.  and  stretches  out  her  hands) 

May  (having  led  Dot  to  the  door,  returns  and 
leads  Imp  to  armchair  l.).  You  poor  child,  you’ve 


26 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


hardly  any  clothes  on.  {Feeling  Tier  shoulders) 
Aren’t  you  dreadfully  cold? 

Imp.  It  ain’t  cold  in  ’ere. 

WiNi.  {on  settee,  suddenly  taking  ojf  diamond 
necklace),  No;  but  it  is  outside.  Sell  this,  and  buy 
a lot  of  good  thick  clothes. 

Imp.  Ow,  moy ! ! 

Jack  {putting  his  hand  on  Winifred’s  shoulder). 
You’re  a brick. 

WiNi.  {looking  up  iy  chance  and  rising).  Oh! — 
Oh! — I’ve  never  seen  a Fairy  before!!  {To  May) 
May,  I’m  sorry  for  saying  I didn’t  believe  you.  I 
see  it  now.  I do  really.  I)o  you  believe  me? 

(ENTEE  Dot  with  milk.) 

May.  Yes,  Winnie,  of  course  I do. 

Dot.  Here’s  the  milk. — Why,  the  Fairy’s  quite 
plain  again. 

Curly  {still  sitting  on  floor).  I think  she’s  still 
quite  pretty. 

Dot  {giving  milk  to  Imp).  I don’t  mean  that.  I 
mean  I can  see  her  quite  plain  again. 

WiNi.  {quietly).  I can  see  her  too,  Dot. 

Dot.  How  splendid ! We  can  all  see  her  then. 

Curly.  Can’t  you  see  her,  Imp  ? 

Imp.  No,  I can’t  see  no  Fairy.  I b’lieve  you’re  all 
a’guying  of  me. 

Dot  and  Curly.  What  ? 

May.  She  means  making  fun  of  her.  No,  Imp, 
dear,  we  can  see  her. 

Imp.  W’y  can’t  Oi  see  ’er,  Lidy? 

May.  Perhaps — perhaps — ah,  well,  you’ll  see  her 
soon,  I expect. 

Imp  {rising  and  going  c.  behind  settee).  Ow  dear, 
this  is  a strange  noight.  ’Oo  are  yer  rail?  {To 
WiNi.)  You  ’ave  foine  clothes.  ’Ow  do  yer  get  yer 
money  ? 

WiNi.  {loftily).  My  father  left  it. 

Imp.  And  you  found  it  lyin’  about  and  prigged 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS.  27 

it?  My  farver  never  leaves  no  money  ^andy  when 
oi’m  abaht. 

WiNi.  {more  loftily),  Fve  never  learnt  to  steal, 
you  see. 

Imp  {enthusiastically),  Oi  could  learn  you! 

WiNi.  I’m  sure  you  could. 

Imp.  But  ’ow  do  yer  get  yer  money?  Does  yer 
work  for  it  ? 

(May,  Jack  and  Dot  all  laugh,) 

WiNi.  {angrily).  Laugh  away.  Which  of  you 
work  for  your  keep  ? 

Dot.  We’re  not  old  enough  to.  Dad  keeps  us,  of 
course. 

WiNi.  {contemptuously).  Dad  keep  you!  Your 
Dad  indeed ! Why  he’s 

Jack  (r.  with  meaning).  Here,  I say,  hadn’t  we 
better  go  steady. 

WiNi.  (c.  violently).  Go  steady  be  hanged.  Who 
are  you  to  talk  to  me?  tf  it  wasn’t  for  our  money 
you’d  be  living  in  the  gutter  like  that  child. 

May  (l.  of  settee,  frightened,  while  Jack  seems 
momentarily  dazed).  What  do  you  mean? 

WiNi.  Mean?  What  I say.  Your  Dad’s  got  no 
money.  Never  had  any.  Your  mother  had  all  the 
money,  and  she  left  it  to  him.  {Indicating  Jack) 
Couldn’t  trust  your  precious  Dad,  I suppose.  You 
may  be  ashamed  of  your  rich  stepmother,  who  came 
from  nowhere — and  of  me  too — but  not  so  jolly  well 
ashamed  as  I am  of  my  swell  stepfather,  who  lives 
on  another  man’s  money. 

{Children  look  at  each  other  in  crestfallen  amaze- 
ment,) 

Oho ! So  you  didn’t  know.  They  didn’t  tell  you 
that  in  the  nursery.  Well,  I’ve  been  about  and  I 
know  things. 

May  {with  dignity).  We  didn’t  know;  but  still 
I’ll  ask  you  not  to  speak  of  my  father  like  that 


28 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


WiNi.  {furiously) . I shall  speak  just  how  I like, 
you  soft-mouthed  little  prig. 

Dot  {jumping  across  settee  and  going  l.  of  Wini- 
fred). How  dare  you  talk  to  May  like  that.  She’s 
sweet,  and  you’re  a BEAST.  Oh,  how  you  want 
smacking.  Jack  says  cheeky  kids  ought  to  be 
smacked. 

WiNi.  Oh,  does  he?  Then  we’ll  start  with  you. 

{Slaps  Dot,  who  tumbles  down.  May  jumps  up  and 
goes  for  Winifred.  Jack  separates  the  two, 
and  spealcs  sternly,) 

(Fairy  runs  out  through  loolcing -glass  at  lacTc,) 

Jack.  Stand  back,  both  of  you.  May,  sit  down, 
and  don’t  speak.  Dot,  stop  snivelling,  and  sit  there 
too. 

{They  obey  without  a word.  May  sits  on  settee. 
Dot  in  armchair,) 

Imp.  (l.  at  bach),  Ow,  wot  a shine ! Let  ^em  ’ave 
it  out.  I wants  to  see  a fight  between  real  lydys ! 
Jack.  Hold  your  tongue ! 

(Imp  loohs  at  him,  is  cowed,  and  silent  and  goes  and 
sits  on  sofa  l.) 

(l.  of  Winifred,  who  is  on  extreme  r. — slowly). 
Now  for  you.  You’re  going  to  have  your  first  lesson 
in  discipline.  Speak  a single  word — and.  you  take 
the  consequences.  Curly,  bring  me  those  skipping 
ropes ! 

(As  he  brings  them  from  Christmas  Tree,  Winifred 
quails,) 

No,  you’re  not  going  to  have  a licking,  though  you 
jolly  well  deserve  it.  If  they’d  used  the  back  of  a 
hair-brush  on  you  when  you  were  a kid,  you  wouldn’t 
need — what  you  do  need  now — though  you  fancy 
yourself  grown  up.  And  that’s  a thorough  good  lick- 
ing about  twice  a week.  If  you  open  your  lips  before 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


29 


I give  you  leave,  I shall  tie  you  up  with  this  rope, 
{knotting  ropes)  carry  you  to  your  room  and  lock 
you  in.  I^m  doing  what  you  ought  to  understand, 
you  see,  I^m  speaking  straight.  I shall  repeat  the 
treatment  as  often  as  required.  You  can  say  what 
you  like  to  my  stepmother.  I’ll  Justify  what  I’ve 
done  to  my  father.  It’s  time  he  understood  how  our 
home’s  getting  ruined. 

{On  Winifred’s  threatening  to  speak,  he  takes  a 
step  towards  her  with  the  ropes,  and  she  is 
silent,) 

Curly,  put  a chair  over  there. 

(Curly  puts  chair  L.)y 
Yow  go  and  sit  there — silent. 

(Winifred  goes  with  hent  head,  and  sits.  Jack 
throws  away  ropes;  his  manner  relaxes;  he  goes 
to  mantelpiece,  lays  his  head  on  it  wearily  and 
sighs.  Curly  timidly  approaches  and  takes  his 
hand,) 

Curly  {just  l.  of  Jack).  You’re  not  strict  any 
more? 

(Jack  shakes  his  head.) 

Only  sad. 

(Jack  nods,) 

You  had  to  be  strict? 

Jack  {with  hack  to  audience).  I — I thought  so. 
Curly. 

Curly  {very  gravely).  You’re  always  right.  Jack. 
Jack  {quickly).  You  mustn’t  say  that. 

Curly.  I’se  sure  you  are.  {A  pause)  Jack,  are 
you  sad  ’cause  this  Christmas  isn’t  like  last  Christ- 
mas? 

(Jack  nods.) 

Mother  was  here  last  Christmas — do  you  ’member? 
Jack.  Oh,  please  shut  up,  Curly-boy.  Boys  don’t 


30 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


cry,  you  know,  and  if  you  talk  like  that,  you  know — 
why — {Buries  head  in  hands,  leaning  on  mantel- 
piece with  hack  to  audience) 

Curly  {after  a pause).  May  I speak  to  May? 

(Jack  nods  without  turning.  Curly  is  about  to  go 
to  May,  when  carols,  Hark  the  herald  angels/' 
etc./'  are  heard  outside.  Jack  draws  curtains, 
opens  window,  throws  out  money.  All  remain 
still  while  one  verse  is  sung.  Then  Jack  closes 
window,  draws  curtains  and  goes  c.  The  snow 
is  seen  falling  when  Jack  draws  curtains.) 

Jack.  Come,  kiddies,  Christmas  Eve..  LeCs  for- 
get that  little  fuss. 

Imp  (c.).  Ow  dear,  wot  a beautiful  song!  It  do 
make  you  go  queer.  {Suddenly  offers  Winifred  the 
necklace)  ^Ere,  tike  this  back.  Oi  seem  to  want  ter 
give  someone  somethink,  and  Oi  ain’t  got  nothink  o’ 
me  own. 

WiNi.  {who  is  sitting  in  small  chair  l.,  declines  it 
with  a smile).  No,  please,  you  must  keep  it. 

(Fairy  comes  through  looking-glass  to  sofa.) 

Dot.  Oh,  the  Fairy’s  quite  close.  IVe  never  seen 
her  so  plain  before. 

Others.  Oh  yes  I ! 

Imp  (l.  c.  Excitedly).  Oi  can  see  ’er!  Oi  can 
see  ’er  at  last ! 

Dot  and  Curly.  Hurray! 

May  {laying  her  hands  quietly  on  shoulder) . 

I felt  all  along  that  you  would  see  her  at  last. 

Imp.  Ow,  Oi  do  want  ter  know  orl  abaht  fairies ! 
Dot.  May  can  tell  you.  She  knows  everything 
about  them,  don’t  you.  May  ? 

(May  shakes  her  head.)] 

Oh,  May,  you  said  you  did ! 

May.  1 used  to  think  I did. 

Dot.  And  now  ? 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS.  31 

May.  Now  I think  I’m  just  beginning  to  under- 
stand a very  little  about  them. 

Imp.  We’ve  never  see  no -fairies  dahn  ahr  alley ! 
May.  Perhaps  you’ll  see  some  there  yet.  Tell  us 
about  your  home. 

{The  Fairy,  having  hissed  her  hand  to  all,  goes 
through  looking -glass,) 

Dot.  Oh,  the  Fairy’s  going! 

Curly  {confidently).  She’ll  come  back.  She 
wasn’t  cross,  ’cause  she  kissed  her  hand  to  us. 

May  {to  Imp).  Come,  dear,  tell  us  about  your 
home. 

(All  gather  round  Imp,  who  is  the  centre  of  group 
while  sitting  in  chair.  Jack  is  r.  at  hack.) 

Dot.  Have  you  a nice  nursery? 

Curly  {gravely).  Why  has  your  mother  been  hit- 
ting you  ? 

Imp.  ’Cos  I couldn’t  get  no  money. 

May.  Do  you  beg  then? 

Imp  {proudly).  Yas;  there’s  toimes  as  not  a nip- 
per in  ahr  alley  gets  wot  I gets.  {Suddenly  holding 
up  necklace)  Ow,  Oi  dunno  wot  ter  do  with  this. 
Children".  Why  ? 

Imp  {cunningly).  Oi  knahs  ’ow  ter  parn  things. 
Yer  see,  this  ’ere’s  wuth  a lot  o’  drinks  ter  muvver, 
and  Oi’d  loike  ter  give  ’er  the  money  a little  at  a 
toime.  It  ain’t  no  good  ter  me,  ’er  ’avin’  it  all  in 
one  drunk. 

May  {aghast).  Yon  want  your  mother  to  be 
drunk — to  keep  drunk  1 

Imp.  Wy,  o’  course ! She  don’t  ’it  me  w’en  she’s 
drunk — reel  blind  drunk,  yer  know. 

{The  Children  eye  each  other  in  speechless  horror.) 

WlNi.  Why  not  give  it  to  your  father? 

Imp.  Yer  see,  ’e’s  in. 

Dot.  Poor  man,  is  he  ill?, 


32 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


Curly.  Can’t  he  get  out? 

Imp.  Ow,  ’e  ain’t  ill,  but  ’e  can’t  get  out. 

Dot  and  Curly.  Why  not? 

Imp.  They  won’t  let  ’im  out — leastwise,  not  till 
Toosday  week.  ’E’s  got  fourteen  dyes  ’ard. 

May.  I’m  sorry  for  your  mother.  She’ll  be  so 
anxious  to  see  him  again. 

Imp.  Yus,  she  will  thet!  Yer  see,  ’e  got  lagged 
fer  kickin’  of  ’er.  She’s  a-goin’  ter  meet  ’im,  and 
she  says  she’ll  giv’  ’im  wot  for,  d’reckly  ’e’s  through 
them  prison  gates. 

Jack  (walking  up  to  group).  Here,  I say — ^per- 
haps you’d  better  not  ask  her  any  more  questions. 
Look  here.  Imp,  I’ll  keep  that  diamond  necklace  for 
you. 

Imp  (artfully),  Not  ’arf.  I don’t  fink. 

May.  Oh,  Imp!  You  can  trust  Jack  with  any- 
thing. Besides,  you  wanted  to  give  it  back  to  Winnie 
a few  minutes  ago.  Now  you’re  only  asked  to  lend 
it  to  Jack. 

Imp  (bewildered),  Yus;  but  I dunno  wot  Oi 
wanted  to  give  h’annythink  awy  for,  just  now ! 

Curly.  Perhaps  it  was  because  the  Fairy  was 
here  then. 

May.  Yes,  Curly;  I think  you’re  right. 

Dot.  Oh ! then  that  was  it. 

Jack.  Imp,  would  you  like  a nice  home  where 
they  didn’t  hit  you,  and  where  you  were  taught  how 
to  feel  kind  and  be  kind? 

Imp.  Ow,  Oi  would  like  a noice  ’ome.  But  wot 
does  being  koind  and — feeling  koind  mean? 

May  (kissing  her).  Poor  Imp,  you’ll  soon  learn. 

Imp.  ’Ow’s  it  done?  Will  the  Fairy  do  it? 

Jack.  Well,  yes,  in  a kind  of  way.  Imp,  I go  to 
a great  big  school.  It’s  gone  on  for  hundreds  of 
years.  When  some  of  the  boys  who  leave  it  are  grown 
men,  they  give  a great  part  of  their  lives  to  finding 
out  people  who  are  poor  and  wretched,  and  then  they 
try  to  make  them  bright  and  happy. 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS.  33 

WiNi.  Is  that  right  ? I thought  that  old  Etonians 
— that  is 

(Fairy  comes  through  loohing-glass  again  and  comes 
to  group.) 

INo,  I won’t  say.  Somehow,  I don’t  feel  any  more  as 
if  I wanted  to  speak  my  mind. 

Jack.  Go  on,  please,  I want  you  to. 

WiNi.  Well,  you  know,  in  America  and  the  Colo- 
nies, they  think  an  Eton  boy  puts  on  side,  and  is 
la-da-dah,  and  sticks  on  airs,  and  only  thinks — 

thinks  of 

J ACK.  Himself  ? 

WiNl.  That’s  right. 

May.  Ah,  Winnie,  I think  you’ll  learn  better 
than  that  if  you  try  to  find  out.  You  see,  the  old 
Etonians  who  do  the  kind  things,  are  just  the  people 
you  don’t  hear  about  abroad. 

Imp.  And  could  I see  all  of  you,  sometimes,  in  the 
noo  ’ome? 

May.  Often.  Perhaps  every  day.  Couldn’t  she, 
Jack? 

Jack.  Yes,  very  likely. 

{The  three  Children  clap  hands  as  they  looTc  up  and 
see  the  Fairy.) 

Children.  Oh,  the  Fairy  again ! 

(Jack  goes  r.  Fairy  pursues  him  everywhere  as  he 
goes,  the  Children  watching  curiously.  He 
walks  about,  and  whenever  he  stops  the  Fairy 
stops.) 

Jack  (r.,  with  Fairy  standing  behind  him).  It’s 
a rum  thing,  but  I feel  as  if  I wanted  to  write  some- 
thing down. 

May.  Then  do  it.  Jack. 

Jack.  But  it  is  so  beastly  absurd.  I’m  always 
bottom  of  the  form  at  essays  and  that  kind  of  thing. 

May.  Never  mind  that.  Jack.  I read  the  other 
day  that  all  the  great  things  ever  written  have  been 


34 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


written  by  people  who  felt  that  there  was  something 
that  they  must  write. 

Jack.  If  someone  would  only  help  me. 

Curly.  I ’spect  as  iCs  Christmas  Eve,  the  Fairy 
would  help  you. 

Jack.  Ah,  p’raps  you’re  right.  But  I’ve  nothing 
to  write  on.  Ah!  (Sees  booh  on  sofa  and  opens  fly- 
leaf) This’ll  do.  It  is  a fairy  book  too.  I’ve  got  a 
pencil.  (Produces  pencil  from  waistcoat  pocket, 
then  goes  to  chair  l.,  sits  and  writes) 

(Fairy  follows  him,) 

Dot.  How  fast  Jack’s  writing.  I’ve  never  seen 
him  write  so  fast  before. 

Curly.  You  see,  the  Fairy’s  helping  him. 

(Children  group  in  c.  and  look  at  Fairy.) 

Dot  (suddenly).  Oh,  that’s  a much  better  kind 
of  looking-glass. 

Curly.  What  is? 

Dot.  Why,  the  Fairy.  I can’t  ’zactly  explain 
what  I mean,  but — Oh,  May,  do  you  know  ? 

May.  Yes,  Dot,  I found  it  out  about  half  an  hour 
ago. 

Children.  What  ? 

May.  Why  that  the  Fairy  is  the  Looking-glass. 

Children.  The  Fairy  the  Looking-glass? 

May.  Yes;  but  she’s  not  the  ordinary  kind  of 
looking-glass.  The  Fairy  is  teaching  us  to  see  our- 
selves as  others  see  us. 

Dot.  To  see  ourselves  as  others  see  us? 

May.  Yes;  that’s  much  the  best  kind  of  looking- 
glass. 

WiNi.  (slowly),  I’m  beginning  to  see  too — ^but  it 
hurts  a little 

Dot.  Don’t  you  think 

(The  Fairy  leaves  Jack.) 

Oh,  here  comes  the  Fairy,  and  Jack’s  finished  writings 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


35 


(Fairy  goes  c.,  at  iaclc,) 

Jack  (sheepishly).  I don’t  know  what  on  earth 
made  me  do  it. 

May.  Perhaps  it  wasn’t  exactly  anything  on  earth. 

Dot.  Are  angels  the  same  thing  as  fairies? 

May.  I don’t  think  there’s  really  much  difference. 

Imp.  Wot  are  ’yngels? 

May.  They’ll  teach  you  that  in  the  nice  home. 
And  now.  Jack,  read  what  you’ve  written.  ^ 

Jack.  No,  I can’t  really.  You  read  it,  May — 
that  is,  if  you  can.  It’s  awfully  badly  written.  I 
scribbled  at  such  a rate. 

Curly.  P’raps  as  the  Fairy  helped  Jack  write, 
she’ll  help  May  read. 

Children.  Ah  yes ! 

May.  Ah  yes ! 

(May  sits  on  sofa,  Children  group  sitting  round 
her,  except  Jack,  who  stands.) 

(Beads)  Dear  children.  It  has  been  so  nice  to  be 
with  you,  but  I can  only  stay  for  a few  minutes  more, 
as  I must  go  away  at  twelve  o’clock.  Still  I shall 
often  be  with  you  when  you  don’t  see  me.  I hope 
you  will  see  me  again  next  Christmas  Eve.  Jack, 
you’ll  live  to  be  a fine  man.  You’ve  learnt  to  obey, 
and  so  you  will  rule  well,  as  many  another  Eton  boy 
has  done.  But  you  must  not  be  sarcastic.  It’s  so 
easy  to  be  sarcastic,  and  so  hard  sometimes  not  to  be. 
And,  oh  please  don’t  grow  into  a prig.  May,  dear, 
don’t  be  too  good : people  can  be  too  good,  you  know ; 
and  don’t  spoil  the  little  ones.  Also  always  remember 
that,  great  as  is  your  grief,  there  are  millions  of  chil- 
dren in  the  world  who  have  far  greater  cause  for 
grief  than  you.  Dot,  learn  to  conquer  your  little 
temper — you  are  a bright,  quick  little  girl,  but  you 
mustn’t  spoil  yourself.  Curly,  you  must  not  be  too 
wise  and  too  grave.  You  are  only  a little  trot,  and 
on  young  shoulders  there  can  sometimes  be  too  old  a 


36 


THE  LOOKING  GLASS. 


head.  Winifred,  try  to  be  meek  and  gentle — don’t 
claim — don’t  assert  yourself.  And  above  all,  don’t 
speak  your  mind.  Speaking  your  mind  is  just  rude- 
ness; and  if  people  must  be  rude,  they  needn’t  cant 
about  it.  You  have  lots  of  real  good  in  you,  if  you 
will’  only  let  it  come  out.  It’s  not  your  fault  that 
you’ve  been  about.  But  learn  a lesson.  If  ever  you 
have  children  of  your  own,  keep  them  at  home.  Eng- 
land’s not  a bad  place — for  children.  Dear  Imp — 
poor  little  Imp,  you  don’t  yet  understand  what  faults 
mean.  In  your  new  home  you  will  learn  right  from 
wrong;  and  they  will  teach  you  kindly.  And  now, 
children,  you  may  each  ask  me  for  a little  Christmas 
present — something  that  you  want  to  do  or  be — and 
I’ll  see  if  I can  manage  to  help  you.  After  that,  I 
shall  give  each  of  you  a keepsake.  Just  a few  ivy 
leaves — and  with  the  keepsake  will  come  a message. 
And  then,  children,  I shall  fly  away,  till  next  Christ- 
mas Eve.  Ask  at  once  what  you  want?  {Pause) 

(Curly  shalces  Ms  head.) 

Dot? 

{Ditto.) 

Jack? 

{Ditto.) 

May.  Dear  Fairy,  even  you  could  not  give  us 
four  what  we  want.  We  want  our  darling  mother 
back  again.  That  is  impossible.  So  we  will  let 
Winnie  and  Imp  ask  you  for  something — come.  Imp, 
what  do  you  want?  What  will  you  ask? 

Imp.  Oi’ll  ask  ter  be  loike  orl  of  you. 

May.  Oh,  ask  something  better  than  that.  Imp. 

Imp.  No,  I want  that. 

May.  How  do  you  mean — like  us? 

Imp.  Yer  see,  I knows  what  I speaks  like  now.  I 
can  ’ear  myself.  I want  to  speak  like  you  all.  {To 
Winifred)  Don’t  you  want  that,  too? 

WiNi.  (L.).  No.  Why  should  I? 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


37 


Imp.  Tose  you  don’t  talk  proper,  neither. 

WiNi.  Don’t  talk  proper! 

{Looks  round  and  is  surprised  because  the  other 
Children  are  not  surprised.  She  shows  that  she 
is  distressed  before  she  speaks,) 

But — Oh,  I don’t  speak  with  an  accent,  do  I,  May? 
Not  really? 

May,  Well,  dear 

WiNi.  Do  I,  Jack? 

Jack.  That’s  rather  an  awkward  question. 

WiNi.  Oh  dear,  then  I suppose  I must!  In 
America  and  in  the  Colonies  we  always  think  that 
English  people  speak  with  an  accent. 

{After  a pause  of  distressful  hesitation,  she  seizes 
Imp’s  hand  and  aMr esses  Fairy.) 

Kind  Fairy,  I am  English.  This  child  is  English. 
Teach  us  both  to  speak  the  English  language. 

{The  Fairy  touches  their  lips  with  her  wand,  Wini- 
fred and  Imp  walk  to  front  of  stage  together,) 

Imp  {in  tones  of  ^'musical  and  ladylike  precis- 
ion'"), My  throat  feels  so  funny.  Do  I seem  to  be 
talking  funny? 

WiNi.  {who  has  also  shed  accent  completely) , No. 
You  speak  exactly  like  the  others — like  Dot  and  May 
and  Jack  and  Curly. 

Imp.  So  do  you? 

WiNi.  Do  I really.  May? 

May.  Yes,  dear,  really. 

Imp.  Will  they  all  speak  in  the  new  home  as  I 
speak  now,  or  as  I used  to  speak  ? 

May.  Well — I’m  afraid  like  you  used  to  speak. 
Imp  {disappointed).  Oh! 

May  {on  an  impulse).  Couldn’t  Imp  live  with  us, 
don’t  you  think.  Jack? 

Jack  {deliberately) , Yes,  I honestly  believe  she 
might  ifs  he  liked  to. 


38 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


Imp.  Oh,  how  I should  like  to ! 

WiNi.  {to  Jack).  What  will  my  mother  say? 
Jack  (quietly).  I shall  see  Dad  to-morrow  morn- 
ing by  myself.  When  I tell  him  all  weVe  seen — all 
we  feel — I think  our  home  life  will  be — well,  differ- 
ent. But  we  must  all  go  to  bed  now. 

Dot  and  Curly.  Oh,  look  at  the  Fairy ! 

(Fairy  waves  Tier  wand  and  large  letters  covered 
ivith  ivy  leaves  are  lowered  from  flies.  The  let- 
ters are  D.  B.  K.  N.  E.  I.) 

Imp  (as  the  Children  handle  the  letters).  LeFs 
see  who’ll  find  the  message  first. 

Jack.  ISTo,  not  to-night.  It’s  too  late.  We’ll 
stand  them  up  on  this  ledge  over  the  looking-glass, 
where  they  won’t  get  hurt,  and  we’ll  try  to  find  out 
the  message  in  the  morning. 

(Children  hand  him  up  the  letters,  which  he  ar- 
ranges carelessly  and  without  attention.  But, 
as  he  sets  them  up  they  form  the  message  BE 
KIND.) 

(Order  of  handing  letters  to  Jack:  D.  Curly,  1. 
N.  Winifred,  2.  I.  Imp,  3.  E.  Dot,  4.  B & K. 
May,  5.) 

Dot.  Why,  there’s  the  message ! 

WiNi.  How  simple! 

May.  Most  things  that  are  very  good  are  very 
simple. 

(Cloclc  strilces  midnight.) 

Jack.  Come  to  bed.  Twelve  o’clock. 

(lie  puts  on  his  coat,  and  takes  Curly  on  his  shoul- 
' der.) 

Dot  (to  Imp).  Will  you  sleep  with  me? 

(May  takes  Dot’s  hand.  Church  Bells  are  heard 
outside.)^ 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 


39 


(Children  group  at  window,  which  May  has  opened 
directly  she  hears  hells.  The  Bells  play  a peal, 
while  all  stand  intent,  in  silence.  The  Curtain 
falls  slowly  as  the  peal  is  played.  Snow  is  seen 
falling  when  curtains  are  drawn.) 

CUETAIN*. 


THE  END. 


•’-H  'St 


r i 


^“SEND  FOR  A NEW  DESCRIPTIVE  CATALOGUE. 


VOL.  XLI. 

The  Pirate’s  Legacy 
The  Charcoal  Burner 
Adelgitha 
Senor  Valiente 
Forest  Rose 
Duke’s  Daughter 
Camilla’s  Husband 
Pure  Gold 

VOL.  XLIL 
Ticket  of  Leave  Matt 
Fool’s  Revenge 
O’Neil  the  Great 
Handy  Andy 
Pirate  of  the  Isles 
Fanchon 
Little  Barefoot 
Wild  Irish  Girl 
VOL.  XLIII. 

Pearl  of  Savoy 
Dead  Heart 

Ten  Nights  in  a Bar-room 
Dumb  Boy  of  Manchester 
Belphegor  the  Mounteb’k 
Cricket  on  the  Hearth 
Printer’s  Devil 
Meg’s  Diversion 


{Frenches  Standard  Drama  Continued  from  2d  page  of  Cover.) 


VOL.  XLIV. 

346  Drunkard’s  Doom 

346  Chimney  Corner 

347  Fifteen  Years  of  a Drunk- 

348  "No  Thoroughfare  f ard’s 

349  Peep  O’  Day  Lhife 

350  Everybody’s  Friend 

351  Gen.  Grant 

359  Kathleen  Mavourneen 
VOL.  XLV. 

353  Nick  Whiffles 

354  Fruits  of  the  Wine  Cup 

355  Drunkard’s  Warning 

356  Temperance  Doctor 

357  Aunt  Dinah 

358  Widow  Freeheart 

359  Frou  Frou 

360  Long  Strike 

VOL.  XLVI. 

361  Larcers 
36‘i  Lu'  ille 

363  Randall’s  Thumb 

364  Wicked  World 

365  Two  Orphans 

366  Colleen  Bawn 

367  ’Twixt  Axe  and  Crown 
Lady  Clancarthy 


VOL.  XLVII. 
Saratoga 

370  Never  Too  Late  to  Mend 

371  Lily  of  France 

372  Led  Astray 

373  Henry  V 

374  Unequal  Match 

375  May  or  Dolly’s  Delusion 

376  Allatoona 
VOL.  XLVIII. 

377  Enoch  Arden 

378  Under  the  Gas  Light 

379  Daniel  Rochat 

380  Caste 

381  School 

382  Home 

383  David  Garrick 

384  Ours 
VOL.  XLIX. 

385  Social  Glass 

386  Daniel  Druce 
Two  Roses 

388  Adrienne 
The  Bells 

390  Uncle 

391  Courtship 

392  Not  Such  a Fool 


VOL.  L. 

393  Fine  Feathers 

394  Prompter’s  Box 

395  Iron  Master 

396  Engaged 

o97  Pygmalion  & Galatea 
898  Leah 

399  Scrap  of  Paper 

400  Lost  in  London 
VOL.  LI. 

401  Octoroon 

402  Confederate  Spy 

403  Mariner’s  Return 

404  Ruined  by  Drink 

405  Dreams 

406  M.  P. 

407  War 

408  Birth 
VOL.  LII. 

409  Nightingale 

410  Progress 

411  Play 

412  Midnight  Charge 

413  Confidential  Clerk 

414  Snowball 

415  Our  Regiment 

416  Married  for  Money 
Hamlet  in  Three  Acts 
Guttle  & Gulpit 


FRENCH’S  INTERNATIONAL  COPYRIGHTED  EDITION 
OF  THE  WORKS  OF  THE  BEST  AUTHORS. 

The  following  very  successful  plays  have  just  been  issued  at  25  cents  per  copy. 


A PAIR  OP  SPECTACLES.  Comedy  in  8 Acts 
by  Sydney  Grundy,  author  of  “ Sowing  the  Wind,” 
Ac.  8 male,  3 female  characters. 

A POOL’S  PARADISE.  An  original  play  in  3 
Acts  by  Sydney  Grundy,  author  of  “Sowing  the 
Wind,”  &c.  5 male,  4 female  characters. 

THE  SILVER  SHIELD.  An  original  comedy  in 
8 Acts  by  Sydney  Grundy,  author  of  “ Sowing  the 
Wind,”  Ac.  5 male,  3 female  characters. 

THE  GLASS  OP  FASHIOTf.  An  original  com- 
edy in  4 Acts  by  Sydney  Grundy,  author  of  “ Sowing 
the  Wind,”  Ac.  5 male.  5 female  characters. 


THE  BALLOON.  Farcical  comedy  in  8 Acts  by  J. 
H.  Darnley  and  Manvillk  Fenn.  6 male,  4 female 
characters. 

MISS  CLEOPATRA.  Farce  in  3 Acts  by  Arthur 
Shirley.  7 male,  3 female  characters. 

SIX  PERSONS.  Comedy  Act  by  I.  Zanowill. 
1 male,  1 female  character. 

PASHIONABLE  INTELLIGENCE.  Comedi- 
etta in  1 Act  by  Percy  Fsndall.  1 male,  1 female 
character. 

HIGHLAND  LEGACY.  Comedy  in  1 Act  by 
Brandon  Thoma*,  author  of  “Charley’s  Aunt.” 
5 male,  2 female  characters* 


Contents  of  Catalogue  which  is 


Amateur  Drama 

Amateur  Operas 

Articles  Needed  by  Amateurs 

Art  of  Scene  Painting 

Baker’s  Reading  Club 

Beards,  Whiskers,  Mustaches,  etc. 

Bound  Sets  of  Pl^s 

Bulwer  Lytton’s  Plays 

Burlesque  Dramas 

Burnt  Cork 

Cabman’s  Story 

Carnival  of  Authors 

Charade  Plavs 

Children’s  Plays 

Comic  Dramas  for  Male  Characters 
only 

Costume  Books 
Crape  Hair 
Cumberland  Edition 
Darkey  Dramas 
i Dram  as  for  Boys 
Drawing-room  Monologues 
Elocution,  Reciters  and  Speakers 
Ethiopian  Dramas 


Evening’s  Entertainment 
Fairy  and  Home  Plays 
French’s  Costumes 
French’s  Editions 
French’s  Italian  Operas 
French’s  Parlor  Comedies 
French’s  Standard  and  Minor  Drama 
French’s  Standard  and  Minor  Drama, 
bound 

French’s  Scenes  for  Amateurs 
Frobisher’s  P<mular  Recitals 
Gr.and  Army  Dramas 
Guide  Books  for  Amateurs 
Guide  to  Selecting  Plays 
Hints  on  Costumes 
Home  Plays  for  Ladies 
Irish  Plays 
Irving’s  Plays 
Juvenile  Plays 
Make-Up  Book 
Make-Up  Box 
Mock  Trial 

Mrs.  Jarley’s  Wax  Works 
New  Plays 


sent  Free. 

New  Recitation  Books 

Nigger  Jokes  and  Stump  Speeches 

Parlor  Magic 

Parlor  Pantomimes 

Pieces  of  Pleasantry 

Poems  for  Recitations 

Plays  for  Male  Characters  only 

Round  Games  * 

Scenery 

Scriptural  and  Historical  Dramas 

Sensation  Dramas 

Serio-Comic  Dramas 

Shadow  Pantomimes 

Shakespeare’s  Plays  for  Amateurs 

Shakespeare’s  Plays 

Stanley’s  Dwarfs 

Spirit  Gum 

Tableaux  Vivants 

Talma  Actor’s  Art 

Temperance  Plays 

Voca^Music  of  Shakespeare’s  Plays 

Webster’s  Acting  Edition 

Wigs,  etc. 


{French's  Minor  Drama  Continued  from  4th  page  of  Cover.) 


VOL.  XLI. 

121  Adventures  of  a Love 

122  » ost  Child  [Letter 

123  Court  Cards 
$24  Cox  and  Box 

125  I’ortv  Winks 

126  Wonderful  Woman 

127  Curious  Case 

128  Tweedleton’s  Tail  Coat 


VOL.  XLII. 

VOL.  XLIII. 

329  As  Like  as  Two  Peas 

337  Sunset 

330  Presumptive  Evidence 

338  For  Half  a Million 

331  Happy  Band 

339  0:4)1  e Car 

332  Pinafore 

340  Early  Bird 

333  Mock  Trial 

341  Alumni  Play 

334  My  Uncle’s  Will 

342  Show  of  Hands 

335  Happy  Pair 

343  Barbara 

336  My  Turn  Next 

344  Who’s  Who 

VOL.  XLIV. 

346  Who’s  To  Win  Him 

346  Which  is  Which 

347  Cup  of  Tea 

348  Sarah’s  Young  Man 

349  Hearts 

350  In  Honor  Bound  [Law 

351  Freezing  a Mother-in- 

352  My  Lord  In  Livery 


SAMUEL  FRENCH,  26  West  22d  St.,  New  York  City. 


Nenr  and  Explicit  Descriptive  Catalogue  Mailed  ‘^ree  on  Request. 


FRENCH’S  MINOR  DRAMA. 

Price  15  Cents  each.— Bound  Volumes  $1.25. 


Pep- 


VOL.  I. 

1 The  Irish  Attorney 
9 Boots  sit  ttie  Swan 

8 How  to  Pay  tlie  Rent 
4 The  Loan  of  a Lover 
6 The  Dead  Shot 

6 His  Last  t.iegs 

7 The  Invisible  Prince 
6 The  Golden  Farmer 

VOL.  II. 

9 Pride  of  the  Market 

10  Used  Up 

11  The  Irish  Tutor 

12  The  Barrack  Room 

13  Luke  the  Laiiorer 

14  Beauty  and  the  Beast 
16  St.  Patrick’s  Eve 

16  Captain  of  the  Watch 

VOL.  III. 

17  The  Secret  |p« 

18  White  Horse  of  the  Pt 

19  The  Jacobite 

20  The  Bottle 

21  Box  and  Cox 

22  Bamboozling 

23  Widow’s  Victim 

24  Robert  Macalre 

VOL.  IV. 

25  Secret  Service 

26  Omnibus 

27  Irish  Lion 

28  Maid  of  Croissy 

29  The  Old  Guard 

30  Raising  the  Wind 

31  Slasher  and  Crasher 
82  Naval  Engagements 

VOL.  V. 

38  Cocknies  in  California 
34  Who  Speaks  First 
36  Bombastes  Furioso 
36  Macbeth  Travestie 
87  Irish  Am  bass  idor 

38  Delicate  Ground 

39  The  Weathercock  [Gold 

40  All  that  Glitters  is  Not 

VOL.  VI. 

41  Grimshaw,  Bagshaw  and 

Bradshaw 

42  Rough  Diamond 
48  Bloomer  Costume 
14  Two  Bonnycastles 
45  Born  to  Good  Luck 
4b  Kiss  in  the  Dark  [jurer 

47  ’Twould  Puzzle  a Con- 

48  Kill  or  Cure 

VOL.  VII. 

49  Box  and  Cox  Married  and 

60  St.  Cupid  [Settled 

51  Go-to-bed  Tom 

62  The  Lawyers 

53  Jack  Sheppard 

54  The  Toodles 

55  The  Mobcap 
66  Ladies  Beware 

VOL.  VIII. 

57  Morning  Call 

58  Popping  the  Questiox 
69  Deaf  as  a Post 

60  Ne.v  Footman 

61  Pleasant  Neighbor 

62  Paddy  the  Piper 

63  Brian  O’Linn 

64  Irish  Assurance 

VOL.  IX 

65  Temptation 

66  Paddv  Carey 

67  Two  Gregories 

68  King  Charming 

69  Po-ca-hon-tas 

70  Clockmaker’s  Hat 

71  Married  Rake 

72  Love  and  Murder 

VO!..  X. 

73  Ireland  and  America 

74  Prstty  Piece  of  Business 

75  Iriih  Broom-maker 

76  To  Paris  and  Back  for 

Five  Pounds 

77  That  Blessed  Baby 

78  Our  Gal 

79  Swiss  Cottage 

80  Young  Widow 


VOL.  XL 

81  O’Flanuig  in  and  the  Fai- 

82  Irish  Post  [ries 

83  My  Neighbor’s  Wife 

84  Irish  Tiger 

85  P.  P.,  or  Man  and  Tiger 

86  To  Oblige  Benson 

87  State  Secrets 

88  Irish  Yankee 

VOL.  XII. 

89  A Good  Fellow 

90  Cherry  and  Fair  Star 

91  Gale  Breezely 

92  Our  Jemimy 

93  Miller’s  Maid 

94  Awkward  Arrival 

95  Crossing  the  Line 

96  Conjugal  Lesson 

VOL.  XHI. 

97  My  Wife’s  Mirror 

98  Life  in  New  York 

99  Middy  Ashore 

100  Crown  Prince 

101  Two  Queens 


102  Thumping  Legacy 
r-r  G^iatleman 


103  Unfin' 

104  House  Dog 

VOL.  XIV. 

105  The  Demon  Lover 

106  Matrimony 

107  In  and  Out  of  Place 

108  I Dine  with  My  Mother 

109  Hi-a-wa-tha 

1 10  Andy  Blake 

1 1 1 Love  in  ’76  J*'®® 

112  Romance  under  Difficul- 
V JL.  XV. 

1 1 3 One  Coat  for  2 Suits 

114  A Decided  Case 

115  Daughter  [noritv 

116  No;  or,  the  Glorious  M1- 

117  Coroner’s  Inquisition 

118  Love  in  Humble  Life 

119  Family  Jars 
190  Personation 

VOL.  XVI. 

121  Children  in  the  Wood 

122  Winning  a Husband 

123  Day  After  the  Fair 

124  Makd  Your  Wills 

125  Rendezvous 

126  My  Wife’s  Husband 

1 27  Monsieur  Tonson 

128  Illustrious  Stranger 
VOL.  XVII. 

129  Mischief-Making  [Mi  nes 

130  A Live  Woman  in  the 

131  The  Corsair 

132  Shy  lock 

133  Spoiled  Child 

134  Evil  Eye 

135  Nothing  to.Nurse 

136  Wanted  a Widow 

VOL.  XVIH. 

37  Lottery  Ticket 

138  Fortune’s  Frolic 

139  Is  he  Jealous? 

140  Married  Bachelor 

141  Husband  at  Sight 

142  Irishman  in  London 

143  Ani  nal  Magnetism 

144  Highways  and  By-W  ays 

VOL.  XIX. 

145  Columbus 

146  Harlequin  Bluebeard 

147  Ladies  at  Home 

148  Phenomenon  in  a Smock 

Frock 

149  Comedy  and  Tragedy 

150  Opposite  '^'eighbors 

151  Dutchman’s  Ghost 

152  Persecuted  Dutchman 

VOL.  XX. 

1 53  Musard  Ball 

.64  Great  Tragic  Revival 

155  High  Low  Jack  & Game 

156  A Gentleman  from  Ire- 

157  Tom  and  Jerry  [land 

158  Villige  Lawyer 

159  Captain’s  not  A-miss 

160  Amateurs  and  Actors 


VOL.  XXL 

161  Promotion  [ual 

162  \ Fascinating  Individ- 

163  Mrs.  Caudle 

164  Shakespeare’s  Dream 
16a  Nf'ptuiie's  Defeat- 

166  Laay  of  Bedchamber 

167  Take  Care  of  Little 

168  Irish  Widow  [Charley 
VOL.  XXII. 

169  Yankee  Peddler 

170  Hiram  Hireout 

171  Double-Bedded  Room 

172  The  Drama  Deiended 

173  Vermont  Wool  Dealer 

174  Ebenezer  Venture  [ter 

175  Principles  from  Charac- 

176  Lady  of  the  Lake  (Trav) 

VOL.  XXIII. 

177  Mad  Dom 

178  Barney  the  Baron 

179  Swiss  Swains 

180  Bachelor’s  Bedroom 

181  A Roland  for  an  Oliver 

182  More  Blunders  than  One 

183  Dumb  Belle 
1«4  Limerick  Boy 

VOL.  XXIV. 

185  Nature  and  Philosophy 

186  Teddy  the  Tiler 

187  Spectre  Bridegroom 

188  Matteo  Falcone 

189  Jenny  Lind 

190  Two  Buzzards 

191  Happy  M:*n 

192  Betsy  Baker 

VOL.  XXV. 

193  No.  1 Round  the  Comer 

194  Teddy  Roe 

195  Object  of  Int  rest 

196  My  Fellow  Clerk 

197  Bengal  Tiger 

198  Laughing  Hvena 

199  The  Victor  Vanquished 

200  Our  Wife 
VOL.  XXVL 

201  My  Husband’s  Mirror 

202  Yankee  [.and 

203  Norah  Creina 

204  Good  for  Nothing 

205  The  First  Night 

206  The  Eton  Boy 

207  Wandering  Minstrel 

208  Wanted,  1000  Milliners 

VOL.  XXVIL 

209  Poor  Pilcoddy 

210  The  Mummy  [Glasses 

211  Don’t  Forget  your  Opera 

212  Love  in  Livery 

213  Anthony  and  Cleopatra 

214  Trying  It  On 

215  Stage  Struck  Yankee 

216  Young  Wife  & Old  Um- 

brella 


VOL.  XXXI. 

241  Cool  as  Cucumber 

242  Sudden  Thoughts 

243  Jumbo  .Turn 

244  A Bligli ted  Being 

245  Little  'I’oddlekins 


247  Maid  with  the  Mif 

248  Perplexing  Predicaui 
VOL.  XXXIL 

249  Dr.  Dllworth 
260  Out  to  Nurse 

251  A Lucky  Hit 

252  The  Dowager 
258  Metamora  ^urlesque 

254  Dreams  of  Delusion 

255  The  Shaker  Lovers 

256  Ticklish  Times 

VOL.  XXXIII. 

’67  20  Minutes  with  a Tig 
258  Miralda;  or,  the  Just 
of  Tacon 
269  A Soldier’s  Courtship 


261  Dving  for  L ove 

262  Alarming  Sacrifice 

263  Valet  de  Sham 

264  Nicholas  JSickleby 

VOL.  XXXiV. 

265  The  Last  of  the  Pigtai 

266  King  Rene’s  Danghtei 

267  The  Grotto  Nymph 

268  A Devilish  Good  Joke 

269  A Twice  Told  Tale 

270  Pas  de  Fascination 


71  Revolutionary  Soldier 
272  A Man  Without  a Hee 


VOL.  xxvni. 

217  Crinoline 

218  A Faiiiily  Failing 

219  Adopted  Child 

220  Turned  Heads 

221  A Match  in  the  Dark 

222  Advice  to  Husbands 

223  Siamese  Twins 

224  Sent  to  the  Tower 

VO»  . XXIX. 

925  Somebody  Else 
2 6 Ladies’  Battle 

227  ^rt  of  Acting 

228  The  Lady  of  the  Lions 

229  The  Rights  of  Man 

230  My  Husoand’s  Ghost 

231  Two  Can  Play  at  that 

Game 


VOL, 

233  Unprotected  Female 

234  Pet  of  the  Petticoats 

235  Forty  and  Fifty  [book 

236  Who  Stole  the  Pocket,- 

237  My  Son  Diana  [sion 

238  Unwarrantable  Intru 

239  Mr.  and  Mrs.  White 

240  A Quiet  Family 


(French's  Minor  Drama  Continued  on  ^dpage  of  Cover.) 


VOL.  XX>.  V. 

273  The  Olio,  Part  1 1 

274  The  Olio,  Part  2 

275  The  Olio,  Part  3 [ti 

276  The  Trumpeter’s  Daugl 

277  Seeing  Warren  | 

278  Green  Mountain  Boy  ; 

279  That  Nose  f 

280  Tom  Noddy’s  Secret 
VOL.  XXXVI. 

281  Shocking  Events 

282  A Regular  Fix 

283  Dick  Turpin 

284  Young  Scamp 

285  Young  Actress 

286  Call  at  No.  1—7 

287  One  Touch  of  Nature 

288  Two  B’hoys 

VOL.  XXXVII. 

289  All  the  World’s  a Stag 

290  Quash,  or  Nigger  trt 

291  Turn  Him  Out  [ti 

292  Pretty  Girls  of  Stillber 

293  Angel  of  the  Attic 

294  CircumstancesalterCat 

295  Katty  O’Sheal 

296  A Supper  in  Dixie 

VOL.  XXXVIII. 

297  Ic!  on  Parle  Francals 

298  Who  Killed  Cock  Rob’ 

299  Declaration  of  Indeper! 

300  Heads  or  Tails  [en 

301  Obstinate  Family 

302  My  Aunt 

303  That  Rascal  Pat 

304  Don  Paddy  de  Bazan 

VOL.  XXXIX.  [tu! 

305  Too  Much  for  Good  N 

306  Cure  for  the  Fidgets 

307  Jack’s  the  Lad 
Much  Ado  A bout  N othic 

309  Artful  Dodger 

310  Winning  Hazard 

311  Day’s  Fishing  [Ai 

312  Did  you  evf-r  send  youi 

VOL.  XL. 

313  An  Irishman’s  Maneuvi 

314  Cousin  Fannie 

31 5 ’Tis  the  Darkest  Hour  bt 

316  Masquerade  [fore  Daw 

317  Crowding  the  Season 

318  Good  Night’s  Rest 

319  Man  with  the  Carpet  tNl 

320  Terrible  Tinker 


SAMUEL  FRENCH  36  West  22<!  Street,  New  York  City. 

Hew  and  Explicit  Descriptive  Catalogue  Mailed  Free  on  Request. 


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